


Promises

by emicha



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Probably some angst, Zutara, bc that's what zutara is all about, but also much of love and devotion, i don't care for the comics nor LOK, idk angst?, no-nonsense Fire Lady Katara, nor for canon, omg they were parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emicha/pseuds/emicha
Summary: Collection of loosely connected short stories about Zutara and their children.All of these will be post-canon and Zuko and Katara are naturally aged up. Mostly fluff and angst. This family is generally happy, though, because that's what they deserve.Exc. chapter III:“Do you know how I got this scar?”“This one?” frowning, Kya pointed at his chest.“No, the other one.”She shook her head.And so Zuko told her.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 68





	1. Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my very first ATLA fanfiction, although I've been shipping Zutara for like 15 years. Better late than never, I guess! :D  
> At this point I would like to mention that the zutara tag over on tumblr is full of talented people, who inspire me on the daily. Everybody, thanks for that!
> 
> I hope you will like my own little contribution to the fandom! ♡

The Snow Moon illuminated the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. Her Highness had fed plenty and was now resting her chubby cheek against her mother’s chest. A satisfied baby truly was a blessing. Humming, Katara kissed the sleeping infant’s head and leaned back against the silk pillows that had been arranged for her on the balcony. Bathing in the strong moonshine she felt her body recover, although she suspected that holding her baby close was the best way to restore her strength.

Pregnancy–  _ nevermind caring for a newborn _ – had cost her a lot of energy, so she enjoyed the long calm nights in which her child was all her’s. 

Yet, Katara longed to train in her gardens again; to guide her element to the images of her mind for as long as she wished.

Her gaze fell over the many pools of water beneath her, and for a moment she was transported into another full moon night; into another time, really, one that was yet to come. In her imagination, she saw herself and her daughter, water and laughter dancing around them as they made rain become ice in the Fire Nation’s warm nights... 

An owl screamed somewhere in the garden, startling her baby awake. Soft cries filled the night, and Katara began cradling the little princess. 

“Shh, my sweet, it’s all well. Mama is here.” 

She cooed and hummed until the cries faded again. Trusting amber eyes looked up at her. 

Whom was she fooling? Zuko had said it was too early to tell, but Katara knew this child had fire in her eyes; the same way she’d known they would have a little princess long before she’d given birth. It had been intuition then and it was intuition now. Mothers knew things like these. 

The irony wasn’t lost on her, though. Who would’ve thought that  _ she – Master Waterbender Katara– _ had carried a little flame inside her belly for nine entire months? 

She’d even born her into water. In hindsight, it might explain why the birth had been so painfully long and difficult. Her Highness simply hadn’t wanted her inner flame to be dimmed upon entering the world. Katara knew a stubborn child when she saw one, and this one had already proven to be nothing but. 

In her life, she’d tended to many children, had at times even felt like a mother to strangers as well. Before she’d had her own child, Katara had thought she’d known love, but where the infant’s soft brown skin met her own, there kindled feelings she hadn’t been aware of being capable of. 

Only one word came to her mind that was able to explain those new feelings to an extent. 

It was an old word– a lone survivor of a long-dead language once spoken by her ancestors. It was older than her Gran Gran, older than anything Katara had ever laid eyes upon. 

Mothers must’ve whispered it to their babies since the first ice when the nights had been endless and the fire in their homes still new. There was no translation for it. No other word she knew could compare to the feelings it declared. 

Katara whispered the word to her daughter now and she would whisper it to the end of all times.

It wasn’t just a word, but a promise– one that made her understand why her own mother had decided to die for her so easily all those years ago. 

She also understood that she would never be capable of making the same decision– not if she could help it. Katara already knew that she couldn’t bear being without her child in life nor death.

Rather than dying, Katara would kill for her. 

She would choke whoever wanted to harm her baby with their own blood. 

She would rip them apart with her sharpened bones. 

She would erase them with her very soul if it only meant her baby would be safe. 

Katara was a child of war and although Sokka would deny it, she was a warrior, too. 

You had to be one if you wanted to survive in the ever icy tundras of the place she’d been born in; where nothing living could take root, yet her people had prevailed ever since. 

It didn’t matter to her that her daughter wouldn’t bend water.

It didn’t matter that her skin was several shades lighter than her own.

It didn’t matter that her features were only a muted reflection of her own. 

She was Katara’s flesh and her blood and she would carry the heart of her ancestors in the deep, stubborn South. 

It didn’t make much of a difference in the ever warm climate of the Fire Nation, but their Crown Princess had been born in the depths of Winter– a time, so Watertribe legend had it, that brought forth only the strongest, most resilient of children. That was what mattered to Katara. 

Her daughter, too, would prevail. It was all she asked for. If necessary, she would make sure of it– whatever the cost. 

And perhaps...

Katara’s fantasy shifted. The little girl that trained with her in the gardens turned into a toddler– a boy that looked an awful lot like her brother when they’d been children. Water bent sloppily in tune with his shrill laughter; his big sister and father enthusiastically cheered him on from the very balcony Katara was sitting on now… 

She chuckled. Her belly hadn’t even shrunken back to its normal size yet, and she was already thinking of another child. 

“Are you coming?”

Her husband’s drowsy words drew her out of her thoughts. In the far distance, just behind the mountains, Katara could see morning’s first touches. She cursed softly. 

Since they both had busy schedules, they’d made it a habit to always spend time together just before dawn; when night faded and day had yet to begin. It was their middle ground and usually the only peaceful time of their days and nights.

“Oh no! Look how early it is already!” Apologetically, she took the hand Zuko offered to help her up. “Have you been waiting long?” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and gently took their daughter out of her arms, cradling her to his bare broad chest instead. The sight always made Katara swoon a little bit. 

“Looked like you two had a lot to talk about. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

They went inside the bedroom, laying their daughter down into her crib. Zuko looked through the ridiculous accumulation of precious blankets they’d been gifted upon the little princess’ birth. Finally, he chose the one with the beaded-embroidery of a solar eclipse to tuck her in.

The parents looked down at the sleeping child in silent awe. She was just a few weeks old, but the memory of life before she’d been born felt already surreal. 

They didn’t have to tell each other how much they loved, how much more they would sacrifice in a heartbeat, for this child or any other that might one day bless their family; but tonight she needed to tell him anyway. 

“I was thinking about my mother earlier.” 

“Oh?” Zuko knew his daughter’s namesake wasn’t necessarily a happy topic for his wife; and how could it, when her mother’s life had been taken in such a barbaric manner – in the name of his own father.

Not fighting the shame that rose inside him, Zuko reached for her hand. Katara reached back and he still –  _ after all those years _ – could almost not believe it. 

Zuko knew what losing a mother felt like, yet he could never compare his pain to what Katara had been through. 

They beheld little Kya in silence for a moment, then their gazes met over the crib. 

“I couldn’t kill for my mother’s sake.” 

He nodded in acknowledgement. Zuko recalled their encounter with her mother’s murderer all too well. How could he ever forget? 

It had been the day she’d forgiven him.

It had been the day he’d come to worship her. 

It had been the first day of coming home, although neither of them had known it then. 

Yet.

Katara let her thumb run over the palm of his hand. Her eyes clouded over, seeing scenes Zuko could never fathom. It took several minutes for her to speak.

“They always expect parents to die for their children. So that we can do better. So that we can stay innocent.” 

Her gaze found their baby again.

“But I look at her and I know –  _ I just know _ – I would kill for her. Should it ever come down to it, I won’t hesitate. Not for a second. If the day comes, I will soil my soul for this child, Zuko. I swear it.”

Her words hung between them in the morning air. It sounded like an oath and Zuko knew it was exactly that. 

“What an ungrateful daughter I am.” Suddenly, tears began pooling in Katara’s bright blue eyes, “I couldn’t avenge my mother and now I can’t even honour her dying wish.”

Gently, he pulled her towards him, the bed, into his arms. He dried her tears, fought his own. 

They embraced. 

“I will do anything to keep that day away.” He whispered into her thick hair. An oath in return.

Zuko could feel her calming breath against his throat the same way he could feel the sun rise in the sky. They held each other for a while– schedules be damned. Damn the world, if they couldn’t be there for each other. 

Morning couldn’t be denied any longer, though. Katara’s body grew steadily heavier against his and he was almost sure she was asleep when she slowly looked up at him. 

“But  _ if  _ it comes…” she yawned, closing her eyes again. “Promise you won’t hold me back, Zuko.”

Holding her a little tighter, he pressed a kiss against her temple. Zuko smiled almost sadly. “As if I ever could.” 

After some minutes, he moved gingerly to lay his sleeping wife down on the bed. She’d had a long night and an even longer day ahead of her... 

He would have her secretary come up with some excuses to reschedule her appointments for the day. Katara deserved to sleep in. 

He rested her head on the pillow and put a blanket over her. Carefully, Zuko brushed some hair out of her face– but in vain. Her eyes opened yet again and grabbed for his hand. He could see that she was captured somewhere between sleep and waking, but she spoke nonetheless. 

“I mean it. I need you to promise.” 

Caressing her beautiful face, he laid down next to her. 

Maybe his secretary could make some excuses for his absence, too. 

“The day I hold you back is the day I stop loving you, Katara.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“And _ that _ day will never come. Promised.” 

He held her for a little longer, making sure Katara was in deep slumber before finally daring to get up for the day. 

Zuko went back over to the beautifully crafted crib that Hakoda had made for his granddaughter. Even the tiniest of details had been carved with the utmost care and love– Zuko would cherish the piece forever; hopefully by using it for more than one child... 

Looking into the bed of blankets, curious amber eyes looked back at him. With every day, it became clearer to him that Kya woke with the sun, too. 

As usual, Katara had probably been right– their little princess was a firebender. 

Although it didn’t change his love for her in the slightest, he was already excited to teach his daughter to control her element in years to come. 

Zuko bent down to stroke Kya’s silken black hair, to gently poke her tiny, wide nose.

Sometimes, he was still astonished that he’d taken part in creating something so utterly perfect.

“Good morning, my heart.” 

Kya cooed as if in answer. Smiling, he took her into his arms and carried her out to the balcony. Like every morning, they took in the day’s first weak sun rays together.

Zuko pointed at this early bird or that sparkling pool of water, at some flowers or the mountains to the East. He was honoured to show her the world for which he and her mother and so many others were working tirelessly to make better. Damn him if he left his daughter the world as he’d once found it. As Katara had said– that was what parents were there for, wasn’t it? To make sure their children could do better than them, to have them keep their innocence for as long as possible. 

Knowing that it was naïve, Zuko wished for a perfectly peaceful world. Yet, Katara’s words confirmed that a world like that did not exist and never would. 

_ I would kill for her… _

Zuko knew Katara had meant it; he didn’t doubt that she would sacrifice her morales and soul, her very being, for their daughter. He resonated with Katara’s sentiment, although Zuko understood her mother’s decision so much better. He, too, would gladly lay his life down for his family. 

Zuko’s own mother had killed so that he could live, true– but in the end, he and his sister had paid the price. He touched the dead skin around his eyes subconsciously. 

In the end, to kill or die would harm little Kya either way; there was no compromising in a war like this. She deserved to have both parents at her side, for however long they were given time to guide and love her.

Protecting wasn’t about killing and dying, really. It was about cherishing what was bestowed upon them. To keep the bad at bay with wisdom and compassion.

Zuko rocked the child on his hip. 

“Your mother and I will keep you safe, all right? You will never be alone. Don’t you ever worry, my child.”

Kya grabbed for a strand of his hair, never taking her eyes off her father’s face.

_ “I promise.” _

He kissed her head and went back inside, towards duty. 

There was still lots of work to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like to imagine that their firstborn would have a Water Tribe name to honour Katara's heritage and family, especially her mother. Also it would be a big fat duck you for any FN racist out of there. Plus, I like the sound of Crown Princess Kya of the Fire Nation.  
> (and to be entirely honest, I suck at names, so guess what baby #2 will be named :D)
> 
> I think Katara would generally be more relaxed with their children but also be the stricter parent at the same time. We know Zuko would die for his family, so it's natural that Katara would have to do the killing. It's all about balance, baby.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading; feedback is greatly appreciated! ♡


	2. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> II. Crowded beds and a trip to the Southern Water Tribe

Katara listened to the soft snoring of her husband and daughter, who’d both come down with a light cold the moment their ship had left Fire Nation waters. 

The gentle waves that rocked their vessel usually lulled her to sleep easily, but tonight the moon stood full and high, inviting the Waterbender to come and play with the wide ocean around her. Katara tried to ignore the seductive pull of her element, though– it was late, and they would reach port early in the morning. 

Frustrated by her own restlessness, she turned– only to be greeted by huge blue eyes that were staring right back at her. It seemed she wasn’t the only one the moon called upon tonight. Smiling at her youngest, Katara raised her arm and the boy snuggled closer to his mother. She buried her nose in his dark curls. 

While Kya tended to smell of singed hair and mischievous adventure, little Iroh's sweet baby scent had just begun to fade.

After placing a kiss on his temple Katara whispered, “Can’t you sleep, little penguin?” 

“No, Mami,” he tried to whisper in return, but his high voice echoed through their cabin nonetheless. 

She glanced over her son’s head. Zuko shifted a little, but he and Kya were still sleeping as soundly as their stuffy noses permitted. 

Katara felt the boy looking up at her and brought a finger to her lips. 

If neither of them could sleep, they could as well enjoy the full moon night. Slowly, she pushed their blankets aside and, like thieves, they stole out of bed.

In half-darkness, they put on their matching parkas and went up on deck hand in hand. Illuminated by the moon, Katara took in the icy night air of her childhood home. In only a few hours they would be reunited with their friends and family, her very first home.

Iroh hadn’t yet been able to walk when they’d last visited the South together, and by now he was already old enough to play in the endless snow; just like she’d done with her brother so many years ago. 

Katara’s excitement grew. 

Where Kya’s face was a well-rounded mix of her parents, Iroh looked Southern Water Tribe through and through. 

She loved both her children unconditionally– to the moon  _ and _ the sun; but being able to bring her little Water Tribe boy home to the people who’d raised her, filled Katara with pride.

Iroh tugged at her gloved hand. 

“Mami, look, the moon is  _ sooo _ shiny!” 

“My, you’re right,” chuckling, she kneeled to fix his hood. “Is that why you couldn’t sleep, Iroh?” 

Katara had been observing him lately. With Kya, they’d known from the moment of her birth that she would be a bender. She’d been born with fire in her eyes; and over the years, she’d in fact proven to be as bright and unstoppable as the flames she could command. 

Little Iroh took his time, though. He’d already passed the age in which the first signs of bending– any bending at that– usually occurred. She and Zuko weren’t particularly worried about it; if he couldn’t bend at all, they would be more than fine with it. 

It was just that Katara had an impatient trust in the dream – _ or vision? _ – she’d had the night of Iroh’s birth. 

Zuko would never call her foolish– she knew that; but he definitely didn’t believe in superstition. She also didn’t want him to think that she was envious of him and Kya sharing an element– because it wasn’t true. Some things were just best kept between her and the spirits. 

So Katara had never told him. 

  
  


The day before Iroh’s birth had been sweltering hot and her first contractions had gotten her by surprise; at that time, she’d had yet another couple of weeks to go. Assuming a false alarm, Katara had heeded Zuko’s suggestion and had gone to rest in their bed. Sleep had claimed her instantly, as had the dream. 

_ She dreams of the moon.  _

_ It is not the same one she has come to know in the short Fire Nation nights, but the seemingly never setting moon of her childhood. Since it is a dream, she recognises this serene moon to be Yue; although she doesn’t appear to her like on the day Katara has seen her body become spirit. _

_ In her dream, Yue does not have any shape. Instead, she is the moonshine and the stars that mirror the endless ocean on which Katara finds herself floating. Yue is the water herself, and the sky; maybe Katara isn’t even floating on water but moonshine? A profound peace settles in her bones, and her tears mix with this magical place. There’s a heartbeat echoing her own inside of her; the waves she’s so magnificently drowning in pull her down in tune to the sweet melody. But breath comes easiest to Katara in the depths of the ocean. Her lungs and her heart expand and double, burst on the dark ocean floor. And then she– the last Waterbender born to the original Southern Water Tribe – knows she is no longer alone. _

After Katara had been woken by Zuko, they had discovered that her water had broken. Only a few hours later, their little prince had been born– a little early, but completely healthy. 

To this day, he wore the shapes and colours of his mother’s childhood home and carried the name of the man his father cherished most. 

  
  


Instead of answering, Iroh looked up at the sky. 

Searching his face, Katara asked again, “Can’t you sleep because of the moon? Do you–”

“It’s it true that there is a woman on the moon, Mami?”

The question made her heart skip a beat.  _ Could it be…? _

Following his intense gaze, she could only whisper, “Why do you ask, Iroh?”

The silence felt endless, before he finally said, “Yaya said so.”

Suddenly feeling awfully silly, Katara gathered the boy into her arms.

Maybe she  _ did _ pressure herself too much into having a waterbending child. 

Maybe she  _ did  _ have too much pride as a Master Waterbender herself.

Maybe she  _ did  _ give one pregnancy-induced fever dream way too much weight.

But it would have to stop– immediately. If Iroh came to any harm because of her own arrogant desires, she would never be able to forgive herself. Katara wouldn’t let it happen. 

She withdrew from the embrace and nodded solemnly, “Well, Kya is right. There is a girl on the moon.”

Iroh beamed at his mother, “I knew it!” 

Laughing at his excitement, Katara rose some water from the ocean and coated a fraction of the deck in ice. 

Iroh, knowing what would come next, tugged eagerly at her sleeve. Together, they stepped on the ice and began to turn in slow pirouettes under the bright moonlight. 

“Her name is Yue. She is very brave and beautiful,” she held Iroh by one hand, lest he would fall. “Did you know that your Uncle Sokka and Uncle Aang and I know her?”

The child’s eyes grew even bigger. “And Baba, too?” 

Katara nodded again. He didn’t yet need to know the circumstances…

“Of course! Grandpa Iroh does, too.” 

Giggling, he dared a small jump. “And Auntie Toph, Mami?”

Carefully stepping off the ice herself, Katara guided him along the deck.

“You know that Auntie Toph knows everybody and everything...”

There would be no proper sunrise, but time passed either way. The ship had increasingly come to life and it had been the captain herself, who’d brought them blankets to keep warm. 

As not to bother anyone’s work, they had snuggled up in some wind-sheltered corner on deck. Sitting on Katara’s lap, Iroh rested his head against her shoulder. He followed the movements of her hands with his own, awestruck by how easily the water listened to his mother. 

“Can I do that, too, Mami?”

“Maybe one day, penguin,” she kissed the top of his hooded head. 

After a moment, she let the water fall away and pulled her son closer to her chest. 

“You know Mami and Baba and Kya love you, even if you can’t bend, do you, Iroh?”

Katara knew he was too young to comprehend her worries, so it didn’t surprise her when he answered, “But I want to make ice, Mami. Just like you.” 

“We’ll see, penguin.”

He sighed like someone ten times his tender age, continuing his apparent monologue, “Maybe I could ask the girl on the moon to help me do that.”

Despite everything, this made her laugh. 

“What a clever idea, Iroh! But you have to ask nicely, promised?”

“Promised”, he nodded so hard, his hood came off. “Can I go  _ now _ ?” 

There was no use in telling him no, as he was already untangling himself from the blankets and his mother’s arms. Feeling oddly calm, Katara watched him take off. 

“Stay away from the railing and let the guards be, Iroh!”

He turned back smiling and waved at her. 

It wasn’t long before the rest of her little family joined her on deck. 

“Well, well. Look who’s rising with the sun now,” she teased when Zuko and Kya looked sleepily at her. 

After hugging them, she wrapped her blankets around her daughter. The girl was always freezing cold, since she couldn’t quite control her inner heat yet. Katara tucked Kya's braid into her parka and let her run off in search of her little brother. 

“There is no sun to rise with, Katara,” Zuko muttered, pulling her gently into his arms. He rested his chin on her head and tried to keep an eye on their children. 

The moon stood as high in the sky as it had for days; Zuko knew it was normal for his wife to be that strongly affected by its presence, but he worried either way. 

His voice was low against her ear, “Didn’t get much sleep, again?” 

Katara shook her head, telling him that Iroh had been awake all night, too. 

For a moment, she looked up at her husband and pressed a kiss against his jaw. Then, she rested her cheek against his warmed parka. “And the bed was too cramped, I’m afraid.” 

Although she couldn’t see it, she knew that a corner of his mouth rose in amusement. 

Zuko’s warm hand came to rest over her stomach. 

“To think that it will be even more crowded on our trip back...”

They chuckled softly. It was too early to see with all the layers she wore in the cold, but the reason for their trip to the South Pole was warmly hidden away inside her. 

“Oh, on the trip back, I’ll be tired for years, Zuko. I’ll be able to sleep  _ anywhere _ .” 

It was probably true. Besides a growing family, they’d brought a lot of work with them. 

There were still post-war agreements to be upheld, healers to be trained and allies to be made. The world did not improve itself.

Knowing they had the same thought, they grimaced at each other.

“Let’s take it easy, yeah?” 

She was just about to agree when Kya’s shriek pierced through the air. 

“ _ Ma, Ba! Look! _ ” 

≈≈≈

A small gathering awaited them at the harbour. Whenever Katara came home, it had grown by yet another dock or lighthouse. Wasn’t the one to the West the improved outcome of the rudimentary plans she and Sokka had made  _ years _ ago?

New and old faces looked up at the family exiting the ship. Over time, Katara’s little village had become a small town– a welcoming home to whoever dared bracing the cold. 

Her eyes found her father next to Sokka in the crowd, but she looked away when she saw Hakoda’s face fall. Despite the biting cold, Katara hadn’t noticed new tears running down her cheeks.

“Grandpa,” Kya exclaimed the moment she saw him. “Look what Iroh can do!” 

Before she could drag her brother away, Zuko laid an arm around Kya and gently pressed her against his side. He knew how important this would be for his wife.

“Let your Ma and Iroh go first...”

They fell a few steps behind and watched as Katara and Iroh made their way to Hakoda. Katara bowed her head respectfully to her father. Zuko had seen her do it only once before– on their wedding day; without looking up, she presented Hakoda their son.

Katara sunk to her knees to be at eye level with Iroh and asked him to show his grandfather what he could do. 

The boy nodded happily and moved his hands more or less the same way he’d seen his mother do only a couple of hours ago. 

Slowly, little drops of water rose from the ground and gathered around Iroh's gloved hands.

The shape was sloppy and burst after a few seconds– but he’d done it.

“He’s a Waterbender, Father.” 

It was not like there were no Waterbenders in the Southern Water Tribe, but most of them and their parents had immigrated from far up North. They were good people, but they had not suffered as the South had, knew not what prices had been paid in order to survive. 

To the South, a Waterbender was a blessing and Hakoda’s beloved daughter had brought them yet another one.

Hakoda stared down at Katara and his grandson.

It was Sokka who broke the heavy silence when he saw tears rise in his father's and sister's eyes. 

“Amazing, buddy! You look just like your mama when she did her magic water tricks for the first time.” 

Blinking rapidly himself, he picked his nephew up.

Even the people who’d gathered to welcome the Fire Nation ship turned and silently went away, paying their chief and his daughter some respect. They would have plenty of opportunities to greet Katara and her family later at the feast.

Iroh giggled when Sokka sat him on his shoulders since he was now as tall as his father, who’d come to stand next to them. 

“Long day, I guess?”

Zuko nodded. “You bet, Sokka.” 

He watched his brother-in-law look back at Katara and Hakoda, who stood a few feet away. Their heads were bowed as if they were in prayer. 

“She fine?”

“Yes. Just overwhelmed,” Zuko pulled Iroh’s hood back over his small head, “We could already see the port when our little penguin here bend for the first time.” 

It was Sokka’s turn to nod in serious acknowledgement; but when Kya told him that she’d seen Iroh do it first, his demeanour changed once again. 

“My, that can’t be my niece Kya, can it? Last time I saw her she was this small!”

He held his hand ridiculously close to the ground, which made Kya cry out in protest.

“Liar! You came to my birthday, Uncle Sokka!”

“And it has been what, princess? Three months?”

“I can make ice, Uncle Sokka!”

“Are you sure? You’ll have to show me that again, bud.”

Zuko laughed but only half-listened to Sokka and the children. He stole a glance at his wife, who was now in a tight embrace with her father.

From where he stood, Zuko could see that Hakoda whispered something against Katara’s forehead before kissing it. 

The polar wind hadn’t carried all the words to Zuko– but it had sounded like they had been giving thanks to the spirits. 

“Last one to get to Auntie Suki and Gran Gran is a wet blanket!” 

He saw Katara smile up at her father then. Hakoda wiped away her tears and pointed at the ocean. Not wanting to intrude further, Zuko turned away. 

It was just before he followed the excited screams of his children, that Zuko bowed his head in his own gratitude towards the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagined Kya being around 7 here, while little Iroh would be four for five. Also, Iroh would totally be a mama’s boy, just like his father, I guess.  
> If it wasn’t clear, the Royal Family is on an extended “business trip” to the South aka Katara is pregnant AGAIN and wants to give birth in her childhood home (I only mentioned the pregnancy casually, since I wanted this one to be about Iroh and his mum, and not about baby #3 and....).  
> I assume they would generally try to spend as much time as possible at the SWT, though, but we all know how busy life is with a nation to run and all that…  
> I mentioned that it’s Iroh’s first memorable trip to his mother’s home, but I still think Katara would either come alone and/or bring her children numerous times a year; I can imagine travelling with a small child is stressful, though (let alone two, RIP).  
> For this one, I like to imagine that Grandpa Iroh is holding the fort back in the FN until they return.  
> Either way, part III will be focused on Zuko and Kya and there won’t be any more children for now, lol. 
> 
> I don’t know where this collection will be going after part III, but I still have the one or other idea up my sleeve. I'll just go with whatever feels most natural.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading; feedback is greatly appreciated! ♡
> 
> (ps: I realise that Zuko is doing a lot of worrying and knowing :D)


	3. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> III. Burning is easy. 
> 
> Warning: trauma/ injury / implied sexual content

Burning was easy. 

The hot Summer breeze caressed his skin, breathing life back even into the dull scar tissue that had claimed so much of his face. Although his hands were resting calmly against his knees, his palms buzzed with energy; his body wanted to move.

Inhaling deeply, he embraced the dry heat surrounding him. 

In his mind, the world had been reduced to everything that burned and anything that was not on fire, yet.

Underneath him, the ancient river of magma flowed in tune to the tireless power in his veins; it would be _so_ easy to let the world go up in flames.

From high above, the merciless sun whispered into his ear.

_Do not hold back…_

It wanted to feast through him. It wanted to consume. It wanted to leave nothing but ashes in its wake. The easiest way out was to give in—it was always the same old promise.

Zuko did not enjoy destroying very much, though, and it had been a long time since he had believed in false promises of power. Ignoring the fire within, he found serenity in his daughter’s warm presence next to him. Zuko was pleased with her even breathing, the perfect silence between them. 

True mastery of their element meant not burning, not giving in. It was to channel power and not to be controlled by it. To feed the flame without leaving waste behind. To find silence in the blaze; freedom in peace.

Zuko emptied his mind; took in the world around him, everything that lived, everything that he would not let burn.

He was anchored by the sound of his son’s and uncle’s gentle laughter from the shaded pyeong-sang. If he focused, he could hear the twins’ soft cries and a lovely lullaby from somewhere within the palace. He imagined running his fingers through thick dark curls and felt like dipping his hands into the turtleduck pond; to simply extinguish the ever consuming fire in his bones. He–

The candles in front of them flickered. Kya yawned. 

“Did we come out here to nap?” Zuko asked calmly, ignoring the moan that followed his question.

“This is _boring_ , baba.”

“That’s the point of meditation.”

“ _And_ my butt hurts.”

“No talking, Kya.”

“You talked first.”

Zuko opened his eyes against the bright afternoon light when Kya’s candle went out. Raising an eyebrow at its waxy remains, he extinguished his own candle with a flicker of his wrist and suppressed a sigh.

“You were supposed to _not_ let it burn down.”

Kya shrugged and untangled her legs from underneath her. She stretched her tan arms towards the sun, yawning once again. Her father considered her. 

Nobody could deny that she was an excellent young Firebender. Her footwork was outstanding; her technique graceful and clever. Aged nine, Kya was able to incorporate numerous different bending and non-bending styles into her movements, which had earned her high praise from all her teachers. Zuko knew she had everything it took to become a master of her element. 

If only she were a little more disciplined, somewhat less impatient… 

Instructing the Avatar in the arts of Firebending had not been as nerve-wracking as teaching this one little girl how to sit still, and the world had been at stake then.

At times like this, Zuko wondered if Katara was right and he was too soft on their daughter. He regularly observed Katara and Iroh practice; his wife was a gentle and dedicated teacher but did not tolerate idleness when it came to Waterbending. Zuko was convinced Iroh’s bending skill was a direct result of Katara’s firm guidance. 

Straightening his spine, Zuko chided, “You’re not taking this seriously enough, Kya.”

Perfectly unimpressed, the girl looked over at her brother and grandfather who were still giggling over their game of Pai Sho. 

“I don’t want to watch a candle burn all day,” she pouted, “I want to show Grandpa my new moves.”

How was Zuko supposed to be firm when he understood so well? Summer was at its peak, the dry air was buzzing with energy and how could he say no when she looked like the spitting image of her mother whenever she made that face? 

Cursing himself, Zuko drew Kya’s attention back to him by gently pulling the tip of her thick braid. 

He held out his hand and the bright smile on her face made it all worth it.

Spirits, he _was_ too soft. 

“Let’s show this old man how it’s done, then.” 

☉

“Focus, Kya,” he instructed, sidestepping her attack. “Go for the shins.”

A ball of flames hit the ground, scorching the grass where his feet had been only a moment ago. The General and little Iroh cheered loudly.

“Good. Again.”

Whatever impatience Kya had for meditation and candles was replaced by determined endurance in combat. She had outgrown singeing her own hair. Her movements were swift and well-calculated; someone unfamiliar to her style would hardly be able to predict her next strike. Zuko felt pride rushing through him. 

“Keep your leg straight when you kick.”

The girl spun and the blaze from her hands flashed more blue than red. Although Zuko had smothered the flame easily, she stumbled back a few steps, before remembering to raise her arms in a simple defensive stance. 

“It’s alright. Keep the temperature down like we practised last week.” 

Nodding, Kya composed herself; danced around him for a bit before daring to attack again. This time, her form was near perfect and Zuko told her so, which earned him a smirk that reminded him a little too much of his sister. 

Parrying her next move, Zuko locked his foot behind her ankle and pulled her legs from underneath her. Kya squeaked as she lost her balance.

“Enough for today, firecracker,” Zuko said, catching her before she could hit the ground. 

☉

Iroh ran over to Kya, splashing her with water from the pond. Scandalised by the sudden disturbance, the turtleducks quacked in unison, which made the children laugh even more. 

Stepping on the pyeong-sang, Zuko took his son’s abandoned seat at the Pai Sho board. 

“Our Crown Princess is improving by the day,” observed the old General, offering his nephew a cup of tea.

“She is too eager,” Zuko sighed, wiping the sweat off his palms before taking the cup. “Too impulsive.”

They watched the children’s playful fight. Kya had locked her foot behind her brother’s leg, trying out the same move Zuko had used on her only a few minutes before—except that both children fell backwards into the shallow pond when Iroh lost his balance, dragging his sister with him. The men laughed as the drenched children emerged from the pond and while Iroh lifted the water off his clothes, Kya had engulfed herself in a cloud of rapidly rising steam.

“Kya! Too hot, again!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Zuko closed his eyes and moaned. “Spirits, how often do I have to tell her?”

The older man took a sip from his teacup and considered the Fire Lord.

“Too eager. Too impulsive. Doesn’t listen to what she’s being told...” the General mused soberly. “I wonder who dear Princess Kya takes after.”

Suddenly being highly aware of what his uncle meant, Zuko scowled. “This is different!”

“If you say so, dear nephew...”

Avoiding his uncle’s self-satisfied grin, Zuko observed the unfinished Pai Sho game. He frowned; the White Lily was not supposed to be placed like this, was it?

“You’re not scamming a seven-year-old, are you, Uncle?”

The old man laughed and swiftly picked up the artful tiles, returning them to their proper starting position. 

“I was just showing young Iroh how to increase his odds of winning...” 

The children’s laughter ceased abruptly, then. 

The sudden wave of heat could have easily been mistaken for a late Summer breeze, but Zuko and General Iroh knew better than that. 

They were Firebenders after all.

☉

Afterwards, Zuko was shamefully grateful that he had not actually seen it happen. He had felt it in his bones, though, had read it in his uncle’s terrified eyes. It was already over when he saw his son hitting the ground. 

In one second, the world had come to a halt; in the next, Zuko was in motion. Knocking over the Pai Sho board, he jumped off the wooden platform and ran.

Zuko wondered when he had last moved this fast.

Had it been when a two-year-old Kya had climbed on the balcony railing without anybody noticing? 

The one time Iroh had gone missing in the streets of Ba Sing Se?

When he had been notified of the twins’ birth right after being lost on an arctic ocean with Sokka for three days straight?

No, he thought, the last time he had moved this fast, he had caught lightning with his heart. 

The pain in his knees did nothing to clear his head when he dropped to the ground next to Iroh. Angry red blisters were already growing from his jaw up to his ear; the stench of burnt skin penetrated Zuko’s mind, dragging him back to where he usually dared not to venture. He knew the pain, knew the wild look in Iroh’s huge blue eyes, knew that he had no means to make the pain stop. He watched helplessly as the boy fell unconscious.

Zuko heard himself groan.

This could not be happening. He would rather take lightning again, a hundred times, if it meant not seeing his child like this. 

Bile rose in his throat. This was his fault, was it not? He had failed to protect him. What if the boy would be disfigured forever? _His_ son? Was this some sick kind of joke? 

How was he supposed to earth himself on spinning ground? 

It felt like hours until the old General had made it to them. He pushed Zuko gently aside and examined the child’s face. 

“Fetch the Fire Lady, please,” he told the first servant who had come to see what the commotion in the gardens was about.

Katara? Zuko stared as his uncle patted Iroh’s uninjured cheek. _Katara._ Of course! Katara could fix this mess. Iroh would be fine because Katara would set everything right like she always did.

“Can Mama heal him?”

Kya’s shaking voice drew his attention away from Iroh. Her face had turned ghastly pale and suddenly Zuko’s brain started to catch up with the world around him. He stared at the girl, his own child, who had not moved an inch from where she had hurt her little brother with her bending. The real lightning struck Zuko, then. _She_ had done it. _She_ had burned half her brother’s face off—for what?

Zuko felt the old heat boiling in his core.

“You can’t rely on other people to fix _your_ mistakes!”

Kya flinched and he wished immediately that he had not yelled at her. Yelling was not something he did when it came to his children but his voice was firm and the words came easy for once and he was already back on his feet, back in motion. Burning.

“Look what you have done!” 

How did things always end up like this within these royal walls? Family did not naturally turn against family. Maybe there was something wrong with him and his blood after all?

“I’ve told you a million times to be careful!”

Zuko towered over her. “What have you done!?”

Kya’s eyes brimmed with hot tears and his head hurt even more by the sight of it, but it was so much easier to embrace the pain than to think.

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Zuko, stop!”

He was not sure whether his uncle or Katara had spoked, but he let out a sigh of relief upon seeing Katara and her entourage of healers hurry over to them.

Zuko rushed towards his wife; there was the sun on his horizon. She had some ink stains on her cheek and her hair was ruffled, but she looked regal carrying Yuka in a wrap on her back while balancing an upset Yutu on her hip. She pressed the toddler into Zuko’s arms as she went past him.

“He is burned, Katara,” he called after her, but nobody seemed to take notice of him, except for Yutu whose bright blue eyes observed him closely.

Katara had kneeled down to examine the injury on her son’s face. She exchanged a few hushed words with the General, before waving a young Waterbender over to her. The teenager handed her a flacon filled with water before stepping back to observe his teacher’s movements. The water embracing Katara’s hands glowed coolly as it was led over Iroh’s small face. 

Zuko held his breath. 

It took but a moment before Iroh stirred under his mother’s healing touch. 

“Hello, penguin,” Katara smiled when Iroh slowly opened his eyes.

Clinging to Yutu, Zuko could only watch as Katara and the General helped the dazed boy sit. Like magic, the blisters on his face were gone, replaced by a reddened patch of smooth skin. 

Zuko released the breath he had been holding. Everything would be fine now.

“Let’s go inside to get a better look, alright?”

Ignoring Katara’s words, Iroh looked around in worried confusion, before settling his gaze on his father. 

“Baba, where is Kya?”

☉

“We are positive that Crown Princess Kya has left the Palace grounds,” reported the guard stiffly, “A search-group is on its way to the city as we speak. By my honour, we will find her soon, your Majesty.”

Night had fallen over the Royal Palace and Zuko’s migraine grew stronger by the minute. 

Kya was still afraid of the dark; there was no way she would be hiding outside, let alone in the big city, but he was too exhausted to go over this with the guards again.

They did not know her as he did. They wanted to cover their bases because it was their job to find the Crown Princess. They did not really care—not as he did.

Taking a deep breath, he waved the man off. It was not the guards’ fault that Kya was missing; Zuko alone was to blame.

Watching the man leave, he dragged a hand over his face. It had been one of the worst days of his life and it did not seem to be nearly done with him.

Katara was mad at him for scaring Kya away.

Iroh was highly upset about his big sister’s disappearance.

The twins were teething and his uncle had nothing but useless advice for him. 

Within hours, the palace had turned into a madhouse and Zuko was sure he would be the first person to lose his mind if they did not find Kya any time soon. 

But where could she have gone?

Zuko was sure she had not left the palace, but even so, the possibilities of her whereabouts were endless. They had searched the most obvious places over and over again but the palace was huge and she was just one little girl.

Zuko let out a frustrated groan. He had found the elusive Avatar once; damn him if he could not find his own daughter under his own roof.

Closing his eyes, Zuko tried to focus. He had to approach this rationally and with the utmost care.

Kya must have been quite upset when she had run off. Knowing her and her notoriously long cooling-off-periods, she could not have made it far.

She had not eaten since noon, so she would probably be hungry by now. They had already searched the kitchens, but Kya was small and swift on her feet, knew the palace like the back of her hand; she might have sneaked into the kitchens without anybody noticing… 

Zuko decided it was as good a place to double-check as any.

By now, the kitchens laid dark and empty. Making his round, Zuko looked under the tables and into some cupboards for any signs of Kya, but all he found was a mother cat and her kittens who had made themselves comfortable next to one of the fireplaces.

“How did you guys get in…?” he wondered, but the answer struck him as he spoke. The kittens. He should have thought of them sooner.

Zuko hurried over to the backdoor, which was opened just wide enough for the animals to sneak in from the courtyard. Looking outside, he sighed with relief as he spotted the fine rice bowls Kya set out to feed the palace stray cats every evening. He could not quite remember when she had taken up the habit, but she had made it her personal duty to care for the cats—no matter what. 

Zuko could not help but chuckle as he examined the empty bowls. Only Kya would arrange them to stand under the small roof to protect the cats from the rain, even in the annual dry season; because that was what his daughter did—making sure that everybody was fine.

Kya had indeed not left the palace. She had come to feed the cats after nightfall, even though she must have been afraid and upset. After all that had happened today, she had remembered her responsibility. 

Suddenly, Zuko knew exactly where she was.

☉

“Kya.”

The throne room was used only a couple of times a year as it was drafty and uninviting by design; it was not built to hold fond memories within its walls. 

The girl was looking up at the Fire Throne when Zuko entered. Engulfed in darkness, he saw the outline of her small frame flinch as his voice echoed through the silence—at least he hoped this to be the reason for her reaction.

“Father.” 

Kya’s voice shook as she turned slowly. He could not make out her face and was about to approach her, to hold her and tell her that he was sorry when she started rushing towards him.

The weight of the past few hours was instantly lifted off Zuko’s shoulders. Everything would be fine again. 

He opened his arms for the embrace that did not come. 

Kya threw herself at her father’s feet, bowing her head deeply enough for her forehead to touch the cold ground.

“Forgive me!”

It was Zuko’s turn to flinch. Only now was she close enough for him to notice that her pretty braid was gone; sloppily chopped strands of hair were streaming over her face, hiding her from him. 

“I never meant to hurt him, father, I swear it! I didn’t do it on purpose!” 

The sheer terror in her voice made his skin crawl. _What had he done?_

"I will never bend again if that is what you want!" 

Her violent sobbing filled the otherwise silent room. 

“I’m so sorry!”

He could only stare at his firstborn. 

“I promise I will be good now.”

Whatever panic and fury had taken hold of him earlier in the gardens was nothing compared to the pain he was feeling now. 

How much could change within so little time?

Had it been hours since they had all laughed together under the hot Summer sun, or even years?

Had he destroyed any trust this child had ever had in him with so little words?

The gruesome scene in front of him broke his heart.

In one moment Zuko had been looking at Kya, in the next, he was dropping to the ground, gathering her into his arms. He held her as tightly as he could without hurting her, lest he would shatter. 

Zuko cradled Kya to his chest as her sobs ebbed away. They sat on the stairs to the sinister throne that was both their fate. Zuko whispered apologies against her silken hair that now only barely reached below her chin. Katara would be _so_ mad at him, Zuko thought, but after today he could take that, too. 

“Will Iroh be alright?” Kya sniffed. They were her first words since… earlier. 

Zuko nodded, resting his cheek against her head.

“Promised?”

“Promised.”

Relaxing a little, she nodded, too.

“Is Ma mad at me?”

“No. But she’s mad at me. Rightfully so,” he cleared his throat. “I’m very sorry that I yelled at you, Kya, I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay, baba. I shouldn’t have hurt Iroh either.”

It was not okay, not unless she understood why he had been so upset.

They sat in silence for a moment, before Zuko sighed. He lifted Kya’s head, brushed some hair from her face and looked into her tear-streaked amber eyes that were so much like his own. 

“Do you know how I got this scar?”

“This one?” frowning, Kya pointed at his chest.

“No, the other one.” 

She shook her head. 

And so Zuko told her.

☾☉

“What if you hadn’t been here?” he murmured against the soft skin of her shoulder. “Iroh could’ve been... disfigured.”

Katara stopped caressing his arm which he had draped around her waist and turned to frown at him in the half-darkness. “Disfigured like you?”

Avoiding her eyes, he nodded. He was glad that he had made up with Kya, but the day’s numerous shocks were still sitting deep.

“You’re a perfect idiot sometimes, Fire Lord.” Katara punched him softly against the chest before she laid her hand against the rough scar tissue of his face. Her blue eyes had gone soft. “I’m very proud of you, you know?”

Zuko leaned into the touch, kissing her wrist. “Proud that I made a huge mess of today?” 

She shook her head, leaning in to kiss his temple.

“I’m proud that you care.”

His brow. 

“That you know when you did wrong.”

His cheek.

“That you’re kind.”

His lips.

“That you love us.”

He returned her kiss, drowning in her until she pulled away.

“And by the way,” she grinned, wrapping her legs around his hips. “I don’t think we would have _four_ children if I didn’t think you were handsome...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was the chapter that made me write this collection in the first place and it DID ME GOOD.  
> I had to write this twice because I absolutely hated it the first round. Now, I'm a little bit proud of it (I say this now, at 2am).  
> This chapter was brought to you by my (and Zuko's, obviously!) unresolved daddy issues; I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading; feedback is greatly appreciated! ♡
> 
> PS: I'm so sorry that the ☾☉ looks so ugly on mobile; the desktop version is very cute tho


End file.
